


The Merman and the Soldier

by thefilipinozombie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Merlock, Sailor!John, Sherlock AU, merman!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilipinozombie/pseuds/thefilipinozombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John had heard all the stories about the creatures of the Lake. Maybe he's going mad, but is it possible they're true?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mermaid Sherlock](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/12442) by fallen-saintsam. 



> This story is based of this picture (http://fallen-saintsam.tumblr.com/post/33173377881/shermaid-or-merlock) by fallen-saintsam.
> 
> I've never written a fic like this before, and I don't know much about mermaids or boating so uh, yeah I pretty much winged it. Hope you like it anyways!

“I’m telling you, mate, they’re out there,” Mike declared as he leaned over the side of the boat.

“Alright, alright.” John had heard the stories of the creatures--and seen some photos even, just glimpses of fins peeking out of the water. He wasn’t sure if he believed in them. The thought was quite fascinating, he had to admit, but it still just seemed unlikely.

“Have you actually seen any of them?” John asked.

Mike sat back up, his face scrunching up slightly in thought. “Not really, no. But Billy has.”

“You’re really going to take word from the town drunk?” John queried, raising a brow.

“Oi! He’s drunk, not mad.”

John just laughed as he set the sail, running the last few checks before settling down. The sun was shining brightly and warmed his face but the air around them was cool from the water. John sat back and let his fingers skim the surface, the feeling almost comforting as Mike rambled on about other things like work and his family, John congratulating him on his new baby. They stayed out in the lake for hours, until the sun started to settle against the horizon and the cool air was making both of their teeth chatter. Mike looked a little disappointed on not having a real sight, but John personally loved the get away. He’d look for any excuse to go sailing, even if it were for something as ridiculous as looking for mermaids and monsters.

 

Sherlock floated upside down, twisting a piece of seaweed between his fingers as he tried very hard to ignore the little eel that swirled around him. One downside of being a merman, though, was that communication was very difficult to block out when they were spoken to the mind.

 _I bet you can’t do it_ , the eel taunted. Sherlock sighed and watched the bubbles go up through the water.

 _You know I despise the humans_ , Sherlock retorted. _So…dull_.

 _Like you’re any different. Ordinary Sherlock_.

Sherlock hissed and glared at the eel. _I don’t have any interest playing any of your games. Why do you think I‘ll start now?_ He wondered why the other creature was so interested in him. Most of the other fish never really gave another thought to the merpeople, but this one seemed persistent.

Sherlock felt as if it could laugh, it would. _Because you’re bored. I’m bored. We make a perfect match, Sherlock_.

_I still don’t understand why you want me to do this. How can persuading a human into the waters keep me entertained?_

_It’ll certainly entertain_ me.

He scowled as he ripped the weed. He wanted to scream from the moronic task but there were certainly no other options to avoid the eel. He tried everything, from showing no interest to ignoring it to threatening it, even resorting to just swimming away but the eel would be right at his tail, taunting him more to do this insane and pointless task.

Of course he heard the stories, of his people luring the humans under the water, and some of the other’s fascination with them. How they were similar but also so different. He’s even seen a group of maids take down an entire ship for fun, calling out to the men on deck and drowning them deep under the water. Sherlock always thought that the humans were such mindless beings. Predictable. His curious side did wonder about them, wanting to take one apart and figure out why they had those limbs, why they couldn’t be under water for too long. What happened to them that made them so _different_?

_If you want one of our kind to pull one under, consider someone else._

_I have_ , the eel answered. _But you’re the only one who refuses. Why is that?_ the eel wondered. Sherlock didn't respond. _I’ll make you a deal. Be successful and I shall leave you alone._

Sherlock looked up from the weed that has been reduced to a stem, and squinted his eyes. He usually would say no, but the reward was too pleasing to pass down. Maybe he could find a few answers of his own.

_Fine._

 

It was one of those nights.

Every muscle was sore and all John wanted to do was relax. He had been ecstatic for being accepted into the Navy, but the strenuous training he put himself through was exhausting. He didn’t have to leave for another six weeks, but he wanted to be prepared.

With a bottle of whiskey in hand John untied his boat from the dock and made the arrangements to set sail into the lake. Not that this boat _had_ a sail. Twenty minutes later he laid back and looked up at the stars that were starting to pop up, the city lighting up along the shore as the night started to settle in. The boat rocked very slightly against the ripples of the lake and John popped open the top of the bottle and took a sip. He let his eyes close and just listened, his thoughts and excitement about the next few months slipping away.

Suddenly, there was a slight splashing sound to his right. John’s eyes popped open and his body went rigid as his ears strained to listen.

It happened again.

And again.

With a huff, John sat up and looked into the water. Although it was dark, he sworn he could see a pale shape just below the surface.

And then a face slowly peeked out.

John clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his scream as he scrambled to the other side of the boat and the whiskey spilled and rolled along the floor. He sat there, frozen.

Did he…did he see what he thought he saw?

No. He had quite a bit to drink. _All that talk must’ve gotten to you, Watson_ , he told himself. John blinked as he tried to regain focus. He took a deep breath and rubbed at his face.

John turned in his seat and the scream made it’s way out this time as the man in the water stared at him. Before John could get away again, one very pale hand gripped his wrist, and John gasped from the cold, and suddenly he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

“Wait,” the creature said, his voice low and mesmerizing.

John had to admit, this man was…downright beautiful. The pale skin, the piercing blue-grey eyes, and the dark wet curls that plastered against a planed and angular face.

Something about the fins on the side of his head fanning out brought John back out of his trance and he instantly pulled away from the creature’s hold.

“What are you!” he demanded breathlessly. He figured he must be mad, but if this was a hallucination, it felt too real. He could still feel it’s touch lingering on his wrist.

“What do you think?” it said, it’s tone almost sounding bored.

If John was going mad, he might as well play along. “Mermaid?”

The creature rolled it’s eyes. “Maid, meaning that I was female, which I’m most certainly am not.”

“Right, so mer…man?”

It nodded with tight lips as if it were resisting another eye roll. John could almost see the word ‘obvious’ etched into it’s features.

“Do you have a name?”

The creature stared at him for a moment before answering. “Sherlock.”

“Sherlock?” John repeated, raising a brow. Human or not, he’d never heard a name quite like that before. “I’m John,” he said stupidly.

He was introducing himself to a merman at midnight in the middle of the lake. Yes, he was definitely going insane. John sighed and sat down. He had to get out of here. He grabbed the oars at the bottom of the boat and stuck them in the water. His muscles were still sore but luckily it didn’t take too much to row it out of the lake. The man’s face kept popping up and grew more and more frustrated the farther he went.

He had to stop drinking.

Eventually the merman gave up and John made it to shore, glancing back at the lake as he made his way home.

 

 _Damn_ , Sherlock cursed. Something about that human put him on edge. Although he noticed how different he was compared to others. No other human had ever resisted one of their kind before.

 _Try singing_ , the eel suggested mockingly.

Sherlock ignored the eel and tried to decide if he should feel agitated or intrigued.

 

It was three more nights until the human--John--came back to the lake. Sherlock could see him setting up the boat from a distance, noting the lack of whiskey on his hands. He smiled, his lips still under the water. It should be easier this time, without the influence of the alcohol. John would believe him and this whole business could be done quicker and the eel--who was watching nearby--could finally leave him alone.

Sherlock waited until the boat reached the middle of the lake, almost the same exact spot he was a few nights prior. Sherlock swam up along the side, spotting John’s hand gripping the rail.

 _Showtime!_ the eel said in a singsong voice.

He let his hand slide up the wooden boat and his fingertips brushed along John’s knuckles. He was surprised how they were just as warm as the man’s wrist before John jerked away, his gasp audible even under water.

Sherlock pushed himself up and hung off the side, everything from his hips up exposed.

“John.”

“You’re real,” he whispered, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging open.

Sherlock smirked and dipped back under water and went under the boat and came out the other side. John was leaning forward, trying to find him. Sherlock reached out and touched the man’s neck, shamelessly loving the warmth that spiraled into his palm.. John sucked in a deep breath at the cold fingers and turned, his terrified expression softening into amazement as Sherlock bore his gaze into John’s eyes. He leaned into Sherlock’s hand.

“Come with me,” Sherlock murmured, moving his hand to John’s cheek and pulling him gently.

John’s lips parted and he shivered. The heat from his skin intensified, and Sherlock found himself wanting more. He brought up his other hand to John’s neck.

“Sherlock,” he whispered. A rough hand covered his own and Sherlock bit back a sigh.

He sank downwards into the water, John following him and Sherlock kept his grip. He was so close, just a few more inches and the deal would be over.

He got to shoulder level until John started to squirm to catch his balance. Something about the action shook John, and Sherlock could see the realization hit his eyes.

“Oh, God!” John cried, growing tense. He abruptly ripped out of Sherlock’s hands and nearly jumped to the other side of the boat. Before Sherlock could react, the oars were in the water and John was escaping rather quickly.

Sherlock hissed in frustration and dove back under.

 

His hands were shaking by the time he tied the boat to the dock. He ran up the shore and kept running until he reached his house, slamming and locking the door behind him. He wanted to collapse into his bed, but his legs gave out from under him and he slid down the wooden door and tried very hard to calm his panting.

John wasn’t even thinking about going back to the lake, but ever since that night he’d been beating himself over the damn creature from the water. For some reason, it was on his mind constantly, and he couldn’t shake the bloody thing off. He honestly wasn’t expecting to see it again tonight, but he just wanted some peace. He figured that if he proved to himself that it was just the alcohol, he could finally dismiss it and get on with his life.

But that was the opposite of what happened.

Now what did he do? Maybe someone drugged him? He pushed the ridiculous thought away. Something in his food? No, that wasn’t very probable either, he’s been eating the same thing every day.

So…the creatures were real.

John knew it was insane but what other choice was there? He rubbed the spot were Sherlock had rested his hands before. It was still cold.

 

The next night John walked onto the dock. The moon was full, the light so strong it reflected off the water blindingly. John clutched the coat as the chill set in, and he stepped into the boat.

He rowed out slowly, much more calm than the night before. He settled in and waited. John wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted from this meeting, some answers perhaps.

There was a splash to his left, and John smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed, the eel is supposed to be Moriarty. More or less.
> 
> Next chapter coming up soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this on Saturday but then I decided not to.
> 
> Do you know how hard it is to keep Sherlock in character while giving him ~emotions~? It's very hard. So hopefully he's not too...well yeah.
> 
> oh darn i just spoiled the chapter eheheh
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

John scooted along the bench to the side to peer down into the water. It wasn’t long until a set of familiar eyes came up to greet him.

“You’re back,” the creature stated, although it sounded like it was more to himself. John nodded.

“I’m back.”

Sherlock came closer and rested his chin on the rail. “Interesting.”

“I want some answers,” John said firmly.

“Really?” Sherlock cocked a brow. A movement in the corner of John’s eye caught his attention. He looked and tried not to react to the dark blue tail the shimmered in the moonlight. He gulped as it sank back down.

“Yes. Are there more of you?”

Sherlock shrugged. “A few.”

“Are there…is there anything else? In the lake?”

He shook his head with a little smirk. “The other fish here are dreadful.”

John rose his brows. “You eat other fish? Isn’t that…I don’t know, cannibalism?”

“Fish eat other fish,” Sherlock explained, looking at him like he was an idiot. “Thinking about trying some eel soon.” He had a thoughtful look on his face.

John scoffed and shook his head. The fact that this was really happening, that he was having a normal conversation with someone from a different species was mind blowing.

“So those other stories, then, are true? The sightings, the pictures?”

Sherlock tilted his head. “Humans have seen us?”

“Are we not supposed to?”

“My kind rarely come above,” he said with a shrug. “Although there are one or two instances, each one rather…disastrous.”

“How?”

He smiled wickedly before disappearing. John stood and looked around frantically. Then, without warning, the boat rocked angrily, becoming very close to tipping over. John yelped and fell to his knees, and gripped onto the bench and waited for it to stop. It did, eventually, the boat creaking as it settled and stilled. He looked up and Sherlock was hanging off the side with a grin threatening to break out at the corner of his lips.

“Something along those lines.”

“Is that all?” John challenged. He couldn’t deny how much fun this was.

The grin on the man’s face fell as his gaze sharpened, automatically hooking John to him. “I could show you more,” he murmured, extending out a hand.

Almost instantly, John took his hand and shivered as the ice cold grip surged through his wrist and up his arm, and he felt himself being tugged towards the edge. He wanted to look away but those grey-blue eyes held him prisoner, and he found himself _wanting_ to go.

“No.” The word slipped through his mouth before he even thought about it, and it wasn’t till then did he realize his eyes had closed. When he started to pull away, Sherlock’s other hand rose and grabbed at the nape of his neck and forced him to stay.

“Sherlock. Sherlock, stop.”

But John wasn’t really putting up much of a fight, his words not exactly matching his actions. Sherlock was pulling him closer but wasn’t going down, bringing John’s face a mere inch of his. John was straining to keep himself upright, the wood groaning underneath him in protest. 

John whimpered. “Sherlock, I can’t.”

“Why not?” he purred, his voice seeping into John’s mind, if that were possible. He felt lightheaded, the only thing he could feel was Sherlock’s hand tangling into his hair and his breath hitting his skin. It took a moment for him to realize that loud sound clouding his ears was his own gasps.

And then Sherlock began to pull, and John had no choice but to follow.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispered, his voice long gone. Sherlock didn’t answer, sinking farther into the water. John had to reach out and balance on his shoulder, his hand going under the cold water and onto slick skin.

Sherlock suddenly stopped and John could feel his thumb stroke the back of his head, the motion sending a chill down his spine. His eyes flickered across John’s face as if he was a puzzle, and then widened fractionally.

“Impossible,” he mouthed. His face contorted in something between shock and disgust and pushed away from the boat fast that it rocked almost as violently as before. John watched as he dove under, the pale skin dissipating into the dark depths below.

John pushed himself up and stared in the same general direction where Sherlock had taken off. Despite knowing that he should be relieved, his heart sank.

 

He swam. And swam and swam and swam. So fast that even the eel was having a hard time catching up.

No. This couldn’t possibly…no.

Part of Sherlock kicked itself for not going with it. He was so close to the end of his bargain. If he had just stayed, he could’ve had John and this whole agreement would’ve been long forgotten by now.

But of course the merpeople’s reputation sunk in, and looking into that face, he couldn’t do it.

Pulling John under meant killing him. And something about John, he wasn’t sure yet, didn‘t allow him to perform such an act.

He’s known this human for five days, seeing him only for three, for no longer than an hour each day. How had he already developed these…feelings? Sherlock knew about the times when his people’s fascination grew into something more, some so extreme that they had sacrificed themselves to keep their human safe. But those took time, weeks, months. Somewhere between the warmth and the closeness his original intention turned into actual ridiculous emotion.

 _I’m calling it off_ , Sherlock said the second the eel slithered next to him. The eel flinched in surprise.

_Pardon?_

_I’m done. I’m not doing it. I don’t care if you follow me until the day I die, but I’m not pulling John under._

_Oh, dear Sherlock,_ the eel hummed, disappointment laced through his words. _I should’ve known you’d be like the rest of them. Letting the emotions get in the way._ The eel shook it’s head sadly. _Pity, really. So quickly too, most wait for at least a couple weeks. Maybe, in that respect, you’re different. Oh well!_ the eel exclaimed, it’s tone turning from disappointment to excitement. _We’re going to have so much fun._

Sherlock’s jaw tensed as he rose back up, just barely peeking above. John was gone.

Without another thought, Sherlock slipped back into the water where the eel waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pretty much stole the 'We are going to have so much fun' line from Supernatural. It fit too well for anything else.
> 
> Next chapter tomorrow :D


	3. Chapter 3

John went out to the lake every night for the next week, even out in the middle of the day a couple times, but Sherlock never showed up.

“You alright there?” Mike asked one day.

“Hm?”

“You…just seem out of it lately.”

“How so?”

Mike rose his brows. “Seriously? You get in your little rowboat every bloody night and sit and wait in the middle of the lake for hours. You’re starting to worry us, mate.”

John smiled, but he didn’t really know how genuine it was. “I’m just getting enough time out here as I can before I go,” he lied. Honestly, Sherlock not showing up was starting to worry him. He wouldn’t feel as bad if he didn’t leave the way he did. John spent more time thinking about it more than he should.

Mike looked at him like he didn’t believe him. John tried to smile wider, his eyes scanning the waters again without thinking about it. He heard Mike sigh.

 

The boat came and left every night.

Sherlock would linger under it every time while the eel sang taunts at him. He had started to learn how to block it out partially, but when night fell and John rowed toward him, the eel was louder.

_C’mon, Sherlock, just tip it over._

_It’d be so easy._

_Or just grab him and pull him out. It seemed to work the first time._

_Until you chickened out._

_Though I think I’m quite flattered that you’d rather spend all this time with little ol’ me._

Sherlock leaned his forehead against the old wood. He could feel every impatient tap of John’s foot, sometimes a _thunk_ of a glass bottle. He thought that losing contact with the human would wipe the emotion away but strangely--and irritatingly--enough, it made him miss John more.

Sherlock growled and swam away, the eel not far behind.

 

Another week passed.

John had gone from going to the lake every night to every other night, until he went once a week. Eventually it hit the four-week mark when he saw Sherlock last. A whole month. There hadn’t been any sign that he even existed. Soon, John started to wonder if he was even real in the first place. He stopped going out with Mike to train for the Navy, although he wasn’t as excited as he was before. Maybe it’d be good for him to get out of this place, he would tell himself. Away from the lake.

He’d stop thinking about Sherlock, his life otherwise returning back to normal. Not this his subconscious cared. Every single dream he had had something to do with the creature with the grey-blue eyes. John would wake in shivers in memory of cold touches.

He just wanted to see him again.

 

Sherlock had noticed that the boat stopped coming.

 _Looks like old Johnny boy forgot about you_ , said the eel, brushing against Sherlock’s fin. _Pathetic that you still wait for him, though._

Sherlock ignored him as he stared out to the shore.

 

One week before his deployment.

The excitement started to blossom again as the date was on the horizon. John had stop glancing at the lake every time he passed it and Sherlock had stopped visiting his dreams. Although he still declined Mike’s invitations to join him to the lake. He didn’t want to drive himself mad.

 

A boat pulled up near Sherlock. He’d seen it a couple times but he never paid much attention for it. Sherlock tried to ignore the eel that was now trying to wrap itself around his tail.

“So, John! Leaving for the Navy soon, eh?”

Sherlock’s head snapped up at the name, and he swam closer to the boat, nearly dodging the anchor as it was thrown overboard.

“Yeah, I’m really excited.”

Sherlock’s stomach twisted a little at the sound of John’s voice, muffled through the water.

“Good for you. Glad that you finally decided to come out here. We missed you, mate.”

John laughed. “Figured I needed a break.”

“Seems like it. Have you seen this guy train? I’m surprised you’re still standing.”

“Right. Just want to be prepared, you know?”

“How long you got?”

“Four days.”

Sherlock’s clenched stomach dropped. He looked up towards the surface, where he could see the back of John’s head.

He could also see the hand hanging over the side, open, waiting expectantly. Sherlock got as close as he dared, not quite touching. He wanted to reach out and hold it, to feel it’s warmth spread through his own hand once again.

Sherlock’s jaw tensed as he pulled away.

_Four days left, Sherlock._

 

It was the last day.

John had received his uniforms the day before, but he hadn’t looked at them till now. He opened the package and stared at the dark blue jacket with brass buttons and gold trims, looking pressed and clean and official. He pulled it out and threw it on, glancing at himself in the mirror.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this.

He took out the matching white trousers and the black boots, quickly changing into them as well, throwing on the white overcoat last. He had his bag packed and ready to go, even though he didn’t have to leave for another two hours.

John glanced out his window that looked out into the lake. The sun was high in the sky, the water shimmering. He hadn’t thought about going out in ages.

 _One last time,_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

With a sigh he made his way to shore, keeping his uniform on, mostly because he never wanted to take it off. He got a couple nods on the way there.

He reached the dock, untying his small boat and stepping into it carefully. He rowed out as far as he can, turning the boat until it was parallel to the coast.

John leaned over the rail. He saw something pale flash just under the surface. John’s heart nearly stopped.

Then, a hand laid over his own, followed by a familiar face. John grinned.

“Nice of you to show up,” he teased, turning his hand to hold Sherlock’s more firmly.

“You’re the one that stopped coming.”

“You started it.”

Sherlock frowned. “When do you leave?”

“About an hour and a half.”

Sherlock nodded resolutely. “How long?”

John could feel his face twist in uncertainty. “Don’t know. For as long as they need me, I suppose. Doctors are in high demand, apparently.”

“Doctor,” Sherlock repeated in a murmur. His eyes flickered back down to their joined hands, and then back up.

“Are there any other mermaids I should worry about while I’m out there?” John asked with a half smile.

Sherlock thought for a moment. “I believe my brother is in the Atlantic.”

John rose his brows in surprise. “You have a brother?”

“Yes. He’s horrid.”

John chuckled. “That’s siblings for you, I guess.”

Sherlock smirked sadly. Silence fell between them as their eyes locked.

“Come with me,” he said after a solid three minutes.

“I can’t.”

“Please.”

“Sherlock, I have to go back soon. I can’t go in a government issued soaked uniform.”

“ _Please_.”

The pleading in his voice froze John where he was. He looked at him, his eyes exploring Sherlock’s face before finally nodding. Sherlock’s jaw dropped slightly as he rose his other hand and twisted in his hair and suddenly their faces were _really_ close until John couldn’t take it anymore and lightly pressed his lips to Sherlock’s. He heard a gasp and suddenly he was plunging into the water.

The water was absolutely freezing. John opened his eyes, surprised on how clear the water seemed during the day. The sunlight was streaming through, and he saw a small school of fish swim by. He thought he could see some kind of eel, staring at them as if it were accusing them for something. John quickly began to realize how little air supply he had and started to struggle, gasping in a deep breath before Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and lips were on his again. Hands gripped at his shoulders and his top coat was being slipped off his right arm. John was too startled to protest, his arms floating next to him, neither resisting or clinging. He just floated and felt, humming in contentment. The kiss was a slow slide of lips, their tongues grazing tentatively past each other. John tried to not wrinkle his nose; Sherlock tasted like fish.

Without warning, there were fingers being wrapped around his ankle that started to tug. John opened his eyes and wondered at Sherlock. It wasn’t till more and more hands started to grab at him that he realized was going on. Sherlock opened his and he knew, too.

John was starting to be pulled up, sliding away from Sherlock’s strong hold until only their hands were together. With another firm tug, they were ripped apart as John surfaced, seeing three men haul him over board. He gasped, not knowing how low on air he was again, sputtering as water ran up his nose.

“For Heaven’s sake, John! What were you thinking?” Mike’s voice yelled.

“I…I thought I saw someone in the water. It was nothing.”

“What happened down there? You were under for quite a while, mate.”

John shivered as a breeze went through. A blanket was wrapped around him, which he took happily.

“Th-th-th-thank you,” he chattered.

Mike and the other two men kept their questions coming, questions John didn’t know how to answer, mumbling nonsense through shivering teeth. He looked up past Mike’s legs into Sherlock’s eyes, the only part of him visible until he went below.

John will come back. He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I was so happy to finally reach this scene.
> 
> The last chapter will be up tomorrow :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Three years later**

The truck’s frame rattled along the uneven dirt path, jostling John’s shoulder. He winced as a twinge of pain shot through him and he adjusted his arm in the sling.

They finally pulled up to his house, which was still standing and eerily quiet. The driver helped him with his things and left him to it.

John walked into his room and glanced out the window, memories flooding back. He hadn’t thought much about the merman of the lake lately. The first year was hell, John can say that much. But something about patching other soldiers up and their ship being bombed to smithereens more times than he can count took his mind off of it. And to think a single bullet was the reason to send him home.

But now looking out his window, there was a strong urge to walk down that shore. He looked around his room half-heartedly. His bags could wait.

As quickly as he could, John made his way down to the dock with a grin splitting his face in two, where his old rowboat sat. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to row with only one arm but he was determined to make it work.

 

1,095 days of doing the same thing, and Sherlock never ceased. Every day he would wait for the rowboat to come that never did.

The other two or three merpeople in the lake had left through the underground tunnels a long time ago, leaving Sherlock on his own. He didn’t mind; he’s been alone since the beginning.

The eel had followed him around for a while after John had left but not for long. Interestingly enough, shoving a thick stick through another animal’s skull did wonders.

It was rather quiet now

Sherlock poked his head above the water. His eyes squinted as he looked out onto the coast, barely making out a small figure walking rather quickly down the shore. It wasn’t until it reached the end of the dock, untying the old boat with one arm that Sherlock realized who it was. A wide smile spread across his face.

“John.”

 

It was a little messy but eventually John reached the middle of the lake. The sun was shining just as brightly as it was before. John sat and waited, calm even with his racing heartbeat.

There was a splash to his left, and John smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you so much for the feedback and reading it! I never thought this many people would be interested in something I wrote. And of course, thanks to fallen-saintsam who came up with the idea :D
> 
> There were so many ways I wanted to take this story, but I just wanted to keep it short and sweet. Maybe I'll pick it up again later and add some more angst and action like the eel tries to take John and Sherlock's like nOPE. Anyways.
> 
> The whole shoving a stick thing was supposed to be a jab at Reichenbach (eheheh). I suppose the three years later part too but it wasn't really intentional.
> 
> Uh, what else...if you guys wanna be tumblr buddies, my url is the same as it is on here.
> 
> Alrighty, I think that's it. Again, thanks for reading!


	5. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so as of popular demand, here's a reunion scene.
> 
> I hate how short it is, but this was the best way I could end this because I tried other paths but it started growing into something I didn't think the story needed to grow into and it was getting slightly ridiculous, so, uh. Yeah.
> 
> ANYWAYS. I hope it's satisfying :)

The first thing that Sherlock had noticed was the cloth holding John’s arm closely to his chest.

“What happened?”

John raised his brows slightly. “Hello to you, too.”

Sherlock glared at the soldier, waiting for an answer.

“Got shot,” he explained. His face fell a little. “They let me out a little earlier than planned.”

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing,” Sherlock murmured, his eyes moving back down to his shoulder. Anger was starting to boil at the idea of someone hurting John.

Suddenly a familiar heat grasped his hand, then moved up his arm slowly, leaving a scorching trail behind it, and then rested against his neck. Sherlock sighed and leaned into the touch, his anger immediately dissipating.

“I missed you, too,” sad John softly.

Sherlock pulled himself up from the boat and lightly pressed his lips against John’s. John responded automatically, turning his head a little to deepen the kiss and Sherlock couldn’t help but grin when he felt John shiver. He admittedly shivered also as warmth started to swarm through him, and he gripped at John’s arm.

A groan escaped Sherlock’s throat as John pulled away.

“I can’t be out here for too long,” John murmured against Sherlock’s lips. “People will talk.”

“Let them.”

Sherlock brought John back down, pressing his tongue between John’s lips and delved into his warm mouth that just tasted utterly _human_. John kissed back, his hand tightening at Sherlock’s shoulders.

“I don’t suppose you have any healing magic, do you?” John asked.

Sherlock growled. “Don’t be ridiculous, John. And if you keep interrupting I’ll have to take drastic measures.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” John smiled, kissing him again. And kept kissing him.

And that was all Sherlock could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I should probably let you know that I'm starting to write something new. It'll be a while until I start posting, but just saying as a heads up ;)
> 
> Again, thank you so much for all the lovely feedback. You have no idea how much it means to me :)
> 
> ANNOUNCEMENT: I'm planning on posting my new AU fic (hopefully) by late December ;)


End file.
